


No Honor, No Shame

by MagpieMinx (CardinalFox)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alpha Vergil, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Biting, Bondage, Clothes Ripping, Copious Sexual Fluids, Cum Eating, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub overtones, Dubious Consent, F/M, Feelings, Fellatio, Hair Pulling, Happy Ending, Honestly cannot stress the Dubious Consent tag enough, Hurt/Distraction, Knotting, Manipulation, Marking, Mate Bonding, Mildly Violent Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Female Clothed Male, Nesting, Omega Reader, Pain-Induced Orgasm, Pussy Spanking, Scratching, Sex against the wall, Unnecessarily hung Vergil tbh, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vergil is still not naked but he takes his shirt off, Vergil's version of seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-31 15:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalFox/pseuds/MagpieMinx
Summary: No mercy, it's a bit too lateThe game is onDon't run, don't hide, don't wait--Fight Like A Girl, Emilie Autumn





	1. Under Attack

It was a mistake, a stupid mistake.

You should have known better than to risk leaving the air-tight room of your bedroom when your heat had already started. You’d thought that it wouldn’t be an issue, a quick trip to your kitchen to get the rest of the bottled water that you’d bought in preparation for the week-long retreat. You didn’t need much food, wouldn’t be cognizant enough for the majority of the time to eat it, but water was a necessity. Without water, you’d dehydrate quickly as your body produced and over-produced slick for a non-existent Alpha.

It was already most of the way through your second day, the cramping had already started, but you hadn’t expected it to intensify as badly as it had. You hadn’t expected it to bring you down on the cold tile of your kitchen floor, gasping for breath, your thighs clamped together as you soaked through the dress you’d forced yourself to put on for modesty. You don’t know how long it’s been since you collapsed, but the sunlight coming through your windows has shifted into the cool glow of twilight. Fear quickens your breath as much arousal, terror building even as your fingers work your slick-covered clit because the longer you lie here, the more likely it is that some passing Alpha will catch your scent.

The thought sends pure panic through the last corners of your mind that aren’t consumed by your heat. The last thing you want is to be mated to a random Alpha, someone you never had a chance to choose. You don’t want to be a victim of circumstance, like so many Omegas have been-

A light tap makes you freeze, even your fingers going still for a moment before they slide into your slick-drenched cunt of their own accord. You manage to at least work yourself quietly as you listen intently, caught between dread and longing. You try to soften your shuddering breaths, turning your head to watch the doorway. There’s not another sound, but you can’t bring yourself to look away, hoping for an Alpha and hoping that you heard nothing at the same time.

You see the silhouette of him before you see him, see that he’s tall and broad and finely dressed. His steps are soundless, his hair pale and silvery. He pauses as he sees you sprawled on the floor, assessing the situation.

“Please,” you whine, the word escaping your throat without permission, drawn out vowels turning it into a soft keening sound. The man comes closer, steps into the dimming light. Your first thought is that he’s beautiful despite the severity of his face, the second is that he’s strangely in control for an Alpha who’s scented an Omega in heat. That’s when you catch his scent, and then conscious thought is gone, replaced only by an insatiable need to be fucked and knotted and bitten.

He comes closer, drops into a crouch beside you, the tails of his coat pooling on the floor around him. You look up at him, desperate and adoring, reaching for him with one hand because you need him. He catches your hand, draws it to his mouth, takes your fingers between his lips and suckles on them. You can’t process why until you remember, distantly, that your fingers were inside you only minutes ago. You arch off the floor when a growl rumbles from his chest, slick gushing from your hungry cunt, further soaking the skirt of your dress as he laves your fingers a final time with his tongue and then pulls your hand away.

“Foolish Omega,” he murmurs in a tenor that makes your body sing, and you can’t respond verbally, can only whimper and try to press yourself closer to him. You try to get your legs under you so you can raise a hand, touch his face, but it would mean pressing your thighs together and you couldn’t bear that. “You should have stayed in your den.”

“Please,” you whisper again, and he sighs, but he’s already reaching for you. He’s still strangely controlled, nothing like you’re expecting. You expect him to rip your dress off you, expect him to brutalize you, and worst of all, you want him to. Instead he picks you up and turns you, settling you on your hands and knees. He pauses to unzip your dress, purring to soothe you when you shiver at the brush of his fingers on your skin, and then he’s pulling it all off over your head. It’s then that he presses a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the floor.

You mewl pathetically against the tiles of your kitchen floor, spread your knees, trying to tempt the Alpha into fucking you. You get a dry chuckle in response, the Alpha apparently amused by your need, by the obvious invitation you’re trying to give him. You hear the whisper of fabric against skin, the popping of snaps, the whine of a zipper. A frisson of excitement shivers through you before you’re able to distinguish why, and by then there’s already slick dripping down your thighs. 

You moan at the first touch of his hand on your ass, the way he applies pressure and gently pulls you open so he can look at your leaking cunt. You try to rock back against him, and he lets go of your ass to trail his fingertips across your flesh and press them into you. You moan again, louder, pushing back, trying to get them deeper. He withdraws and you nearly push yourself back up, ready to snarl and demand what you want, but then he slides into you and drapes himself over your back. It’s a full body caress, inside and out, and it breaks you as you press your bare back to his naked chest, skin to skin contact quieting your screaming body.

He braces himself over you on one elbow, stroking your side and thigh with his other hand as he purrs, soothing you. His cock is thick and long, filling you and stretching you exquisitely, forcing you open in the way you need so desperately. There’s a continuous, keening moan coming from your throat as he reaches your limits and then applies steady pressure, pushing you to take a little more of him. Your cunt flutters helplessly around his cock, trying to drag him deeper, coating him in another rush of slick. He adjusts his position behind you, his thighs against yours, his knees bracketing your own between them. He pushes again, trying to bottom out in you, but not able to just yet. He sighs against your neck, mouths at the bonding gland there. If you weren’t on the floor already that would cause you to collapse, instead you whimper as your cunt releases yet another wave of slick that drips down your thighs to the floor.

“You’re a delight,” he intones softly against your skin before setting his teeth on your bonding gland and squeezing it. You buck against him, legs shaking, clawing at the floor, but he takes no notice of that as his free hand shifts beneath you. Gentle fingertips pluck at your nipples, pausing to cup and stroke your breasts, his cock still pressing deeper into you. His fingers skim over your stomach and then come to rest against your clit, rubbing and tapping in a way that makes you squirm, rocking and circling, pushing back on him. 

It’s your squirming that finally brings your ass flush against his hips, his fingers still circling and tapping your clit, his touch light and controlled. Air rushes out of your lungs, more moan than exhale, and his purr returns, redoubled and directly against your neck, rumbling from his chest into your back. You melt under him, going pliant, forgetting everything except his touch, his scent, his purr as you wait for him to fuck you.

It’s not what you thought, not what you expected, not what you wanted. It’s  _ better _ , his hips grinding against yours, circling. He tests you, listens carefully, finds the depth and angle and motion that you like best, the ones that send you spiraling further into a hot, aching mindlessness that leaves you pleasure-drunk. His purr never falters through his slow, careful fucking, even as your dripping pussy continues to leak slick and tightens around his cock, preparing to milk his knot. It’s starting to swell, and he takes advantage of this, rocking it in and out of you as it grows, using it to stretch you with a soft, brutal thrusting. 

Your eyes roll back and then close, your mouth wide open, panting keens and whimpered cries escaping your throat. You need more, but can’t find the words to ask for it, but then he works his other hand, the one he was using to help brace himself against the floor, under your head to curl his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swipes over them first, and then your lips close around them so you can suck on them. His purr drops off for a moment as he groans against your neck, and when it resumes, it’s a growl so deep that it’s a snarl. His fingers are pressing down on your tongue, crushing your clit under them, and now he’s fucking you in earnest, his hips snapping forward, cock demanding as it penetrates you over and over. 

You’re trembling all over, shaking uncontrollably, so close to cumming, your cunt spasming as it tightens around him. Some high-pitched animal noise is coming from your mouth, sliding out around his fingers, and his teeth latch onto your neck, onto your bonding gland as he snarls again. It’s too much, the pleasure shooting down your spine like an electric shock, your muscles tightening up. Your cunt seizes on his cock, trying to drag it deeper into you, but then he slams it into you, forcing the knot past your entrance before it can get too big to push inside you. You clamp down on it and then you’re cumming so hard that you lose track of everything except the overwhelming pleasure blanketing your senses. 

The pleasure, sharp and bright, is bolstered by soothing warmth at its foundation. You’re stretched beyond anything you’ve ever known, but it feels good, a steady pressure locked in your body as your pussy squeezes it rhythmically. There’s teeth on your neck, biting down on your bonding gland in a heady dose of pain that sends fire dancing along your nerves. There are still fingers are on your clit, coaxing more spasms from your cunt, the spurting cock and hefty knot inside of you trying to force their way deeper into you. You lose yourself totally to the sensation, existing in a daze of pleasure and pleasurable pain.

You have no idea how long it goes on, but it’s full dark when you blink, come back to yourself a little. You’re purring with satisfaction, the Alpha’s body still draped over your back, and he’s purring too, a deep thrum of sound that makes you feel boneless under him. His fingers are no longer on your clit or in your mouth, instead he has one hand braced on the floor, the other wrapped around your ribs as he nuzzles at your neck. It’s sore there, but there’s no sharp pain like there would be from a bite. You make a soft sound of protest, but the Alpha shushes you and then purrs even louder than before and you stop caring whether or not you’ve been bitten.

“Where’s your nest, Omega?” he asks, breaking off his purring to do it. He’s still tied to you, but he’s Alpha, he could carry you to your den, to your nest. It needs room for him, but you can make room. You smile dreamily as you fantasize about him fucking you in your nest, scent marking you with his cum, feeding it to you as it leaks from your ravaged pussy, stealing it from your tongue. 

“Door on the left,” you sigh, arching your neck so that he has more access to it, to your bonding gland. He presses his lips to it in a soft kiss, and then he’s gathering you up carefully, collecting your limp and trailing limbs so he can carry you. It’s still awkward, but he manages it with so much grace that you feel heat stir in your loins again and squirm. He doesn’t even wobble as he rises from the floor, watching his step so that he doesn’t slip on your slick, but he does pause to take a breath and then resumes purring as he carries you to the door on the left of the hallway he came up when he found you.

“Get the doorknob,” he says briefly, and you obey without thinking, taking the doorknob and turning it. He starts to purr again, rewarding you for your obedience, pushes the door to your bedroom open with his shoulder and carries you through. It swings shut behind him as he carries you straight to the pile of blankets and pillows arranged so invitingly on your bed, and then his knot suddenly slips free of your cunt and there’s fluid leaking down your thighs. You whimper and moan, but he laughs softly for a moment before he lays you in your nest.

He’s laid you down on your back, and he puts a hand on your sternum to pin you down. His other hand is cupped beneath your cunt, catching the cum and slick seeping out of you. He’s purring again, soothing you into contented stillness, and when he lifts his hand from between your legs, it’s brimming with thick fluid. He pours that first handful into your mouth, then leans forward and kisses you hungrily, tongue sweeping past your parted lips to taste. His hand, however, is back between your thighs, catching more cum in it. This handful he dumps onto your chest and stomach, rubs it into your skin, marks you with his scent. It’s laced with the sweetness of your own slick, and he sniffs appreciatively above your belly.

It’s the first you’ve seen him up close, but you’re too deep in the throes of your heat to memorize his features. You catch the flash of his grey-blue eyes and see the plushness of his lips, full and petal-pink, but that’s all. You reach for him, wanting to pull on the hanging sides of his shirt, pull him close and kiss him, but he flicks your hands aside as he lays his body between your legs. His face, his mouth, is inches from your still leaking cunt, and then he growls, the sound reverberating through your sensitized pussy and sending a fresh wave of slick and cum spurting out of you. He latches onto your cunt with lips, tongue, and teeth. He bites and sucks, scrapes and licks, his hands on your inner thighs, pressing them apart. You arch with a cry, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, hips grinding against his mouth as he devours you. His growl is rising to a snarl again, and your pussy and stomach are cramping as you gush slick over his face. He’s lapping it up, sucking it from you, but it’s also smeared across his face, from his chin to his eyes.

This time when you cum, you choke on your silent scream, thighs shaking as he alternately fucks you with his tongue and suckles relentlessly on your clit. His fingers are digging into your inner thighs hard enough to leave blissful bruises, and then he’s rearing back, ripping your hold from his hair. He lunges forward, the head of his cock finding the opening of your vagina with unerring precision, and then he’s bottomed out in you on one long, hard thrust. The sudden violence of it makes you shriek, but then he has your knees pushed back to your shoulders and he’s fucking you with abandon, still snarling. He adjusts his angle slightly, diverting some of the force of his thrusts from deep into you to the front wall of your cunt and then you’re seeing stars behind your squeezed shut eyes. You writhe and buck beneath him, wanting more, harder, faster, rougher, need him to take you to the breaking point.

“Rub your clit,” he growls, dropping his head a little so that you’ll understand what he’s commanding you to do. You obey instantly, one hand flying to the apex of your split folds to rub your clit with your fingertips. The rough, pounding rhythm of his brutal fucking and the compulsive circling of your fingers over your clit take you to the edge quickly, your panting turning into pitiful, breathy cries of need. Your pussy is rippling around his invading cock, sawing in and out of your body, forcing you open over and over again. His cock responds, his knot swelling up until he’s fucking you with it nearly half-formed. The stretch is even more intense than before, but the burn of it is what pushes you over the edge as you jerk your hips up to take him deeper. Your pussy bears down on him and he makes some loud, savage, animal noise as his knot is locked inside your body.

He’s not content to let you milk his cock this time, his hips grinding and circling as he keeps moving. He’s pulsing inside you, filling you with copious amounts of cum, climaxing harder than he did the first time, and you’re sobbing with the intensity of it. His knot being jostled, pushed, and dragged inside you as you cum is like nothing you’ve ever felt, your slick and his cum making it possible despite how tightly your body is gripping him. Your fingers are twitching uselessly over your clit, and when he notices, he releases one of your legs to knock them aside. He shoves his thumb hard against your clit, flattens it against your pubic bone, rubs it in harsh circles. The stimulation is too much and you’re thrashing under him, trying to ride the pleasure and the uncomfortable overstimulation. You start to cum again before it feels like you’ve finished the previous orgasm, and he keeps going, refuses to let up on you.

You lose track after the third forced orgasm, and then somewhere after that, your eyes roll back in your head and you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as just a PWP expression of Vergil thirst and then it grew into something a bit bigger and I thought maybe I should share it. I'll probably be posting about once weekly as I edit the remaining chapters.
> 
> Pretty hefty inspiration from Addison Cain's omegaverse stories, so if you end up liking this story, you should definitely check her out!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	2. Body Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've lost track_  
>  _If nobody's mentioned how this will end_  
>  _Then I'll be the first_  
>  \--Fight Like A Girl, Emilie Autumn

The bedding you use for your nest tumbles out of the dryer when you pull on it, caught between fury and despair. The fury wins out this time, and you strike the dryer with the heel of your palm, grinding your teeth together, before gathering the thrice-washed blankets into your arms. You give them a cursory sniff, smell nothing except laundry detergent and the lingering scent of your slick. A vicious triumph tightens in your chest and you smile grimly, satisfied that you’ve finally eliminated every last trace of the nameless Alpha who broke your heat more than half a year ago.

You held onto a few blankets with his scent, thinking that they could help break your subsequent heats. Instead, they’d made them worse, lengthened them because there was scent and no knot, your body understanding the lie and refusing to be tricked. Not even a toy had been able to help break your heat sooner, and now it’s been abandoned in it’s original box under your bed. After three heats without him, you’d had to admit the truth to yourself: you were hoping he would come back. After your most recent heat, you’re forcing yourself to accept reality.

He’s not coming back.

You fold the blankets mechanically, knowing that you’ll be able to resist the nesting instincts until next month. You stack them, one on top of the other, finish the task. It’s the work of less than a minute to pile your nesting materials into the dresser drawer you designated for that purpose, and then there’s… nothing.

The hurt comes rushing back and you become angry reflexively, slamming the heel of your hand against the top drawer of the dresser. It hurts, and you’re certain that there’s a bruise forming there after doing it so many times. At this point, you almost hate the Alpha as much as you want him, loathe him for disappearing from your life as quickly as he appeared as much as you’re grateful that he didn’t take advantage and mark you. In a way, his abandonment after the worst of your heat makes it easy for you to forget he was ever there, frees you to go back to the life you had planned before he stepped into your life. You scowl as you realize that he probably didn’t anticipate your reaction anymore than you did. There is no bond between the two of you, he didn’t claim you, but you don’t want anyone but him.

You tell yourself that he’s gone over and over again, but the longing for him is still fluttering in your chest, aching. It’s ridiculous, feeling this way over an Alpha you’ve never actually met because a scent, a cock, and a knot aren’t a meeting. You barely even remember what he looks like beyond the color of his hair and his eyes. What you remember best is his purr, the touch of his calloused hands-

You grind your teeth together as you grip the edge of your dresser, forcing yourself to focus on the texture of the wall so you can regain control. It’s a little too late, your panties are damp enough that you want to change them, but it means little when you’re locked in your own home and your heat is over. There’s no one close enough to smell you and you’re no longer bleeding pheromones into the air by merely existing. You breathe a sigh of relief and leave your bedroom to go to the kitchen. You go straight for the refrigerator, pull it open and reach for the slick, pale pink cans of strawberry-rhubarb soda. You take the first one down and shut the door of the refrigerator, turning your back to lean against the cool surface of it as you open the can and take your first sip.

The sweet-tart flavor of the soda bubbles brightly over your tongue, and a smile crosses your face. You continue sipping at the soda, feel the simple pleasure of it settle you, soothe your agitation. Suddenly, everything is bearable, your emotions subsiding-

The sound of a lock grates on your ears, the scraping of the deadbolt being turned back sets every hair on your body standing on end. No one has a key to your home but you, which means that someone found the spare key you hid outside in case you locked yourself out. It means someone has been casing your home for something, watching you, and if they’ve been watching you, they know you’ve been in heat and are trying to take advantage.

It’s hard to tell whether you’re scared or furious or both. You’re shaking as you set your soda down silently and you slink across the kitchen on cat-quiet feet toward your phone. You hear the door open, a key being extracted as you gently lift the phone up. The door closes, and then there’s a moment of silence before the intruder steps inside. You frown, something about the light tapping sparking something you can’t quite grasp, making you hesitate. The footsteps pause and then resume, and a tall man with silver hair cautiously rounds the corner into your kitchen.

Your mouth drops open as you recognize him, shock causing you to freeze. His scent hits you a heartbeat later and your body responds before you’re able to consciously verify that it’s the same. Your underwear has gone from damp to wet, and your phone drops from your numb fingertips to clatter on the counter. It startles you back into motion, and the Alpha smirks wryly, amused by your sudden clumsiness.

“Omega,” he says in a purr that’s enticing, seductive. He prowls toward you, suddenly predatory, hungry, and something about that snaps you out of your near-trance. You backpedal, your lip curling in anger, restraining the impulse to strike him because you know better than to provoke an Alpha.

“You left me,” you snap at him and he pauses, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side as he considers what you’ve said, the expression on your face. His grey-blue eyes are intent, calculating, cool as he reads you and stops purring.

“Your heat subsided,” he says evenly, straightening, apparently willing to talk to you this time. The realization makes you sneer at him, your mouth twisting into a vindictive, wrathful smile. He sees your expression, absorbs it impassively, says, “You had no more need of me.”

“I woke up and you were gone!” The words explode out of you on a snarl and you lunge toward him, slapping one palm onto his chest and shoving. He rocks minutely, Alpha strength preventing you from doing more than shifting him. “I didn’t even know your name!”

Silently, he leans into your hand, towering over you. You don’t know whether he means to intimidate you or increase the pressure of your hand against his chest. Your momentary waffling is the only thing he needs to sniff you, and before you can register why, he growls. Your cunt responds instantly, drenching you in a rush. Heat rushes to your face as he smirks again, says, “I can smell your heat on you.”

“You missed it,” you fire back despite your embarrassment, “By an entire day.”

His hands are suddenly on your hips, sliding back to your ass, lifting you. Somehow, your thighs lock around his waist as he settles you there, your arms wrapped around his neck. Your body, at least, is eager for him, and he knows it. He’s purring again as he says, “I miscalculated.”

You’re about to reply when he kisses you, turning to set your back to the wall of your kitchen and then leaning into you to keep you pinned there with his body weight. The pressure drives the breath out of your lungs, and then he’s grinding his hips between your spread thighs. He growls against your lips and you whimper as slick gushes out of you and drips through your already sopping underwear. One of his hands is wrapped under your jaw, lifting your face, the other is sliding down your body. His fingers are curled as he does it, like he wants to rip your clothes off your body, maybe tear into your flesh. You can’t help the moan that slides between your lips, and his curled fingertips press harder into your side over your hipbone. You’re hungry for the bruises, for the marks, for the proof that he came back.

The thought that you don’t expect him to stay after rises into your conscious mind, and then it’s obliterated when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your cotton shorts and tears the elastic. You hiss when it pulls painfully tight before splitting along the seam at your back, the rest of the garment rent at the seams from the force of the Alpha’s yank, and then he’s doing the same to your panties, tearing them from your body and purring when you claw at his back and growl. He shifts and then he’s stroking your soaked folds with his fingertips, sliding over your clit and making you squirm and whine before he dips his fingertips into your cunt. You tighten around the meager offering, trying to pull his fingers deeper into your body, needing more as you pant. He leans in to lay his cheek against yours, purring, “You’re wet for me.”

“Why the fuck are you so chatty all of a sudden?” you spit in breathless fury, “Shut the fuck up and fuck me!” The only response you get is a laugh before he kisses you again, covering your open mouth with his own, tongue sliding against yours. It makes you remember when he licked your pussy after the first time he fucked you, when you were nearly senseless with your heat, and you shudder. It’s a sense memory, one that only intensifies when the Alpha’s fingers slide out of your cunt as it clamps down and fights to hold onto them, spasming when they slide to your clit to rub you in slick, tight circles.

You thought you had control of the pleasure, of all of it, but the onslaught of sensory stimulus, his scent, his touch, his kiss, the slide of his tongue and the hot weight of his body, takes you to a place so close to your heat that it terrifies you. It’s like losing yourself at a time when you shouldn’t be, just because an Alpha decided to drop back into your life-

The thought makes you angry and then you’re tearing at his back with your nails, your other hand pulling at his head to make him kiss you harder. The growl coming from your throat is animal, threatening, but the Alpha just leans into you harder, pinning you to the wall like a butterfly. The hand on your jaw tightens as he pulls away and then he’s pushing your head up, exposing your throat. His tongue travels up the column of your neck as he purrs even louder, fingers still swirling over your clit as he sucks open-mouthed kisses onto your skin. It’s hot and wet and you’re melting under him even as you struggle against his hold, panting in high pitched little moans that betray how good it feels to have him touching you, taking control, taking what he wants from you. 

You tighten your legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer, demanding that he fuck you without words. He indulges you for only a second, letting you pull his hips just the tiniest bit closer before he resists and refuses to be moved. You whine in frustration, thrusting your hips forward, but the movement does nothing to dislodge his fingers. They slip from your clit for the barest breath, and then they’re back on it, circling tighter and faster, pressing harder against it so that you writhe desperately as you feel your orgasm rising much faster than you’re prepared for. You squeak out a panicked, “Wait-”

It’s already too late and you tense as your peak rushes up on you, clinging to the Alpha as your cunt squeezes around nothing and you gasp for breath. The pleasure, if it can be called pleasure, is too sharp, too raw. It’s also too short, feels more like your body shorted out, and there’s nothing satisfying about it, no warm glow flowing under your skin when it’s over. You’re left blinking at the Alpha, confused and trying to understand what he’s done to you. You find him studying your face carefully, a cruel smirk curling the corner of his mouth, and then he repositions your head with the grip he has on your jaw and kisses the tip of your nose and then your parted lips. It’s a sweet gesture that’s at odds with the way he handles you, and you can’t tell if it’s mockery or if he’s just made up of strange dichotomies like that.

You’re thinking of the way he fucked you the first time, the strangely slow, tender, caressing way he took you on the floor of this same room, and then he’s letting go of your face and his hand is dropping between the two of you. You can hear more than feel what he’s doing, the unbuckling of his belt, the pop and rasp of him undoing the fly of his pants, the soft shuffle of fabric being pushed out of the way. A breath later he’s shifting his hold on you, wrapping his hands around your hips, his fingers wet with your slick on one side. He eases some of his weight off you, adjusting your position and his until the tip of his cock is against your folds, and then he lowers you onto it. 

He lets gravity do most of the work of impaling you on his cock, purring again as you gasp and moan at the stretch. You roll your hips, feel your pussy spasm around the thickness of his cock, try to remember if he felt this big before or if you were just too slick or too far gone in your heat to notice. Your squirming only makes you slide further down, his cock splitting your cunt open in a way that burns. You wonder if it’s the position, but then you realize that months have passed since the last time he was inside you and a breathy little “oh!” escapes your mouth. His purr deepens to a growl, drawing another rush of slick from your responsive, eager pussy, and you let out a little cry as you sink further down him and feel the pressure of the head of his cock against something deep inside you. He can’t fit all the way inside you, and he could hurt you trying-

He’s shifting you again, sliding his arms under your knees, jerking your legs free of his hips and then leaning into you. It has the effect of leaving you hanging by your knees, open and vulnerable to him, exposed. He’s not looking at your face, instead looking down at where he can clearly see his cock disappearing into your body, and then he rocks his hips experimentally. It’s not a thrust, it’s just a rocking, puts unforgiving pressure against that part of you that feels like it can’t be moved, and then it retreats minutely before coming back. He lingers at the top of the wave, pushing against you, trying to force more of his cock into you. It should hurt, but instead you can feel pleasure building a second time, leaving you reeling from the intensity. You cum much harder than you expected, your cunt squeezing rhythmically around the thick cock inside you, trying desperately to pull his cock deeper or to thrust yourself further down it for the knot you suddenly desperately need. 

He doesn’t allow either to happen, growls as he withdraws quickly, preventing his knot from fully forming or locking inside you, if it would have even fit inside you in this position. You cry out and pull at him, trying to yank him closer, and then you snarl to demand his knot when he refuses to be moved. He’s smirking, smug and satisfied, back to gently rocking his hips although he leaves the bottom half of his cock outside of you. You make a sound of frustration, and he purrs loudly to soothe you, leaning in to trap you between his chest and the wall. He’s careful not to sink too deep into you until he’s sure that you’re no longer cumming, and then he presses his hips forward and slides back into your open cunt. It still doesn’t fit entirely in you, but you hear the note of pleasure in his purr, know that it’s deeper in you than it was before.

You flush when you abruptly realize how intimate this entire process is. It’s bad enough that you’re naked from the waist down, spread out for him, but it’s even worse with his torso pressed along every inch of yours, his face so close to yours. You’re suddenly looking into his eyes as he studies your face, taking in your hot cheeks, your open mouth. You get the sense that he likes this, the intimacy of it, maybe especially because it embarrasses you. You can’t decide how to feel about it, whether you hate it or crave it, mostly because you feel both. You love the way he’s pressed up against you, love the way he keeps you pinned, love how he revels in it. You hate the way he holds all the power, the way he’s taken it before you were ready to give it. More than anything, you hate knowing that you’d have willingly given it to him anyway, desperate for the high only an Alpha can give you.

You tighten your fingers around the back of his neck, sinking your nails in and bare your teeth, distracting yourself and him with your hostility. He’s not fooled by your display and that cruel, knowing smirk is back on his full, pink mouth as he purrs soothingly again and leans in to lick your mouth. It’s quick, so you can’t bite him while he’s within reach of your teeth, and he says, “You don’t have to hide that you’re enjoying this.”

You feel your face twitch into an expression of rage and you let go of his neck to seize his hair and yank his head back. He’s not expecting it, and his head snaps back, his mouth opening in surprise as a sharp, harsh exhale leaves it. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Alpha.”

It’s one more on a long list of mistakes that you’ve made because he snaps his hips in a hard, punishing thrust that makes you cry out. It loosens your grip on his hair too, and he nearly headbutts you as he dives for your bonding gland, closing his teeth around it as if he might mark you. Real fear shoots through you, but so does very real, soul-shattering pleasure that has you on the edge of another orgasm after only a couple of those deep, demanding thrusts. In a far away corner of your mind you register the slap of his sack against your ass, realize that he’s bottomed out in you and it’s somehow exactly what you need. A split second later, you’re fighting to pull him closer as the hot wave of your climax washes over you. His hips continue thrusting in a relentless rhythm that drags it out, keeps your cumming cunt fluttering around his cock in a tight, spasming grip. 

At some point, the pace of his thrusting slows and you find your face buried in the curve of his neck. You’re shivering, whimpering softly, and he’s purring again to comfort you. You’ve never felt so vulnerable, or so safe, and your eyes prickle with tears as you burrow a little deeper into his neck to hide how emotional your orgasm has left you. He must already know, or else he wouldn’t be purring quite like that, but he has the capacity to be kind enough to not say anything about it. He shifts his hold on you, putting more of your weight against the wall. It’s solid against your upper back, secure, but then the Alpha is pulling away and you panic and cling to him, try to hold him against you. 

“Wait, don’t leave me-“ you start to say, but then he kisses you, silencing your words. He has one arm still under your knee, but it’s now also wrapped around your back. His other hand guides your other leg to circle his waist, encourages you to wrap yourself around him. He pulls away, but stays close, his breath hot on your lips. 

“I’m going to fuck you, knot you, eat you, fuck you again, and then I’m going to put you to bed,” he tells you, still purring, “After that I’m going to leave.”

“At least tell me your name,” you plead, clutching at his shoulders, all your anger gone in the face of another impending abandonment, “Please? I can’t do this again-“

“No,” he says, his tone firm and oddly paternal. It throws you for a moment and you bite your lip, considering before deciding on a different course of action.

“Then I’ll tell you my name, I’m-“ you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss. You sputter, and when he pulls away, he laughs, his smile amused and somehow softer. 

“I already know your name,” he murmurs indulgently, his free hand sliding up your thigh to knead your ass, purposefully shifting your attention from your conversation to raw carnality. You resist, but it’s futile and you know it. He makes it even harder not to follow his direction when he rolls and circles his hips at the top of his stroke, grinding against you in a way that makes you squirm. You whine, struggling to move because even with only one arm he has you efficiently and effectively pinned. You tighten the leg wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him closer, wanting his weight against you again.

He surprises you when he does lean into you, smirks when he sees your surprise, nips your lip. You scowl at him, annoyed that he’s so smug about giving you what you want, when you find out the real reason he was smirking at you. He drives his cock back into you and you gasp at the new angle, fisting your hands in his coat and holding onto him, trying to keep yourself grounded, conscious. He sets an impossibly steady pace this time, neither too fast nor too slow, and he fucks you like he could keep going forever. You shudder at the thought, but then his hand is traveling up your side, past your hip and your ribs and your shoulder to your jaw. You expected him to stop there, and he does, but he also pushes two fingers into your mouth, presses down on your tongue. You almost gag, but then you suckle on his fingers the way he clearly wants you to, working your tongue over them.

It dawns on you that you could do more than accept his attention and react to it, that you could try to take some kind of control. You have, in your anger, but you haven’t tried taking the initiative on any kind of sexual contact. You try to think of what you could do, but it’s so hard when the steady movement of his hips is burning away your ability to do any actual thinking. You pull on his coat again, trying to pull away from his fingers, but he grips your jaw harder, his fingers even heavier on your tongue than before. You gag a little because of it, but he doesn’t ease off, only lets loose a long, loud, purely Alpha growl that makes your cunt gush slick all over his cock and the front of his pants. You clench around him, and this time when he thrusts back into you, he’s forcing your walls to part enough to let him in, forcing his way into your body. 

You moan brokenly around his fingers, and he rewards you with a mind-bending purr, one that tells you he’s pleased, that he’s gotten exactly the reaction he wanted from you. Your hips are moving with a mind of their own, rolling, trying to keep his cock in you. His knot is starting to form now, you can feel it at the base of him, an expanding thickness that slides into and out of you. All of your questions, all of your worries fall away and reduce you to a single minded desire to get his knot in you, keep it locked inside you until you’ve cum and he’s cum. You’re panting, his fingers still in your open mouth, his knot still growing as he fucks you with it. It suddenly crosses your mind that he might have no intention of stopping at the moment, that he might be trying to fuck you with his fully engorged knot. The possibility should scare you, but you’re already so far gone again that it excites you. 

It’s already reached the point where it’s difficult for him to shove it into you, but he does it anyway with a rough thrust of his hips. It’s takes a moment of effort for him to pull it out, the girth of it combined with your clenching cunt forcing him to slow down to make sure that he doesn’t damage you. His thrusts shorten as he focuses on fucking you with just his knot, and you feel your cunt rippling, gripping his knot even tighter, making it even more difficult for him to push it back into you. Your legs are shaking, and when you reach your peak, you throw your head back and it hits the wall. The Alpha growls, leans in and bites down on your bonding gland again as he roughly shoves his knot into you and pushes it as deep as it can go. 

Your pussy squeezes his knot and his cock, bearing down on it as you cum, your body going limp and loose in his arms as your cunt milks his cock. He must be cumming, you can feel him twitching in you, but his teeth are still squeezing your bonding gland and sending sparks of pleasure dancing over the wildfire of your orgasm. It’s overwhelming, and your back arches, curving as you try to ride the sensations and failing as they rise up and flood you, drown you in them.

He pulls his fingers from your slack mouth and you whine in protest, trying to suck on them, just catching the tips of them between your lips. The Alpha just leans in and presses a kiss to your mouth, tongue curling around yours in a languid stroke before he withdraws. You’re dazed, blank, breathing hard and blinking at him while he surveys you with satisfaction. He turns his attention from your face for a moment, and then he’s moving you, settling both your legs around his waist. You let him handle and position you like you’re a doll for him to pose, and it’s now that you become aware of the consequences of being pinned and spread against the wall. Your hips ache and your back hurts and the back of your head hurts from throwing it back and hitting the wall behind you. You hazily attempt to tally up your bodily hurts and then you give up, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as a twitch of your cunt and his cock makes you shudder. You close your eyes, suddenly exhausted from it all.

You hear the Alpha laugh very softly as one of his hands takes a firm hold of your ass, the other sliding around your side to brace your spine. He carries you out of the kitchen and to your bedroom, pausing in the door to look at your bed. You feel him cock his head to the side, but you don’t open your eyes or lift your head, just answer his unspoken question, “I only keep a nest when I’m in heat.”

“And your heat ended yesterday,” he remarks, “Fascinating.” You think about explaining to him why today especially your nest is already dismantled, but then you sigh because you don’t want to think about your reasons for doing so. You shift in his arms, nestle closer, bury your nose in his neck and breathe in his scent. It’s what you’ve been waiting for, hoping for, longing for. It’s like inhaling calm and peace and comfort and he does nothing to stop it from happening.

You have to wonder why he doesn’t stop you when he lays you down on your bed, careful not to jostle you unnecessarily since you’re still tied together by his knot. He leans down to kiss you and for a moment you think about turning your face away and refusing it so you don’t have to remember it when he’s gone. It’s one more memory you’ll hold onto and make yourself sick with, hoping he’ll come back again.

The impulse only lasts for a second and you can’t make yourself follow through on it because you still crave his touch. You push your apprehensions to the back of your mind and let him thoroughly silence them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter 2! I'm posting a little bit early because I have a paper to write tomorrow, and also because it's already Sunday on the East Coast of the US so I feel justified.
> 
> I suppose an alternate title for this fic would be something like "How Vergil Continues To Ruin Your Life In A Really Terrible But Also Delicious Way".
> 
> I would love to hear about your favorite parts so far and what you think of Vergil! Feel free to copy and paste your favorite bits/lines into a comment. I really appreciate hearing what readers are enjoying and kudos are always appreciated!


	3. Hostile Takeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There is no such thing as justice_   
>  _All the best that we can hope for is revenge_
> 
> \--Fight Like A Girl, Emilie Autumn

You’re not waiting for him, but you’re ready for him. Maybe that’s why it’s a surprise, not a shock, when you look up from your phone and see him standing in the doorway to your bedroom. He’s almost too tall for the frame, not that he notices it. His attention is focused on you, his expression caught between relief and displeasure. Something small and petty preens with satisfaction in your chest over this small sign that he’s missed you while you’ve been avoiding him. You have to congratulate yourself for being able to predict someone who has tried so hard to be unpredictable. In the end, it wasn’t even difficult, it was as simple as staying in a hotel or with a friend for the week you were supposed to be in heat. You can’t stop the malicious, victorious smirk that curls the corners of your mouth.

“Missed me?” you ask brazenly, maybe stupidly considering he’s still an Alpha. His eyes narrow, his expression turning hard and disapproving as he takes in your blatant satisfaction. You hear yourself purring, don’t bother to stop yourself.

“You were purposely avoiding me,” he says, full lips pressing together in anger.

You don’t even have a chance to reply before he’s crossed the room, swatting your phone from your hand and sending it tumbling to the floor. He’s rough as he jerks you further down the mattress, seizes your wrists, pins one to the mattress and the other on your pillow, dragged askew under your shoulders. His knee divides your thighs and then you’re splayed under him, breathless with the suddenness of it. He growls, deep and loud, the demanding sound of a furious and barely restrained Alpha.

Despite your fast-beating heart, the fear fluttering and clawing up your throat, you don’t offer him any resistance. You have an ace up your sleeve, and he’ll play it for you before too much longer if he’s as intelligent as he’s seemed before. Your breath catches in your chest as he shifts both your hands up to your headboard, wraps his fingers around both your wrists in a bruising grip and pins them there. His other hand curls in the waistband of your leggings and rips them down the side, the seam tearing under the pressure. You yelp as the other side of it cuts into your skin, gasp as the pressure from the other side abates. Just as fast, his fingers are in your panties, dipping into your folds.

He stiffens and goes still over you as he carefully probes your entrance with his fingertips, slipping a pair of them into you. You don’t even wince despite the fact that you’re nearly dry, too triumphant to care as you wait for him to figure out what it is you’ve done, the way you’ve subverted his expectations and sabotaged his efforts. You can practically hear the gears in his head grinding, understanding the implications of-

“You’re on suppressants,” he says briefly through gritted teeth without needing to confirm with a second growl. You’re a little disappointed that he’s not growling in a futile attempt to force you to soak your panties through with slick, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. You bare your teeth at him in a vicious smile.

“For three months now,” you answer, gloating that he can’t manipulate you through biology, can’t trick your body into giving him what he wants through scent or growls or touch. He can’t seduce you into surrender with gentle touches and intimacy either. Suppressants, you found, were the perfect solution to every aspect of the problem of this Alpha who thinks he can make you his for a handful of hours when he happens to remember you exist. Your heats are gone, and the side effects make it so that unplanned, casual sex is far more likely to be painful than it is pleasurable. Damaging, even, in a way that this Alpha has, ironically, been very careful to avoid.

His face is twitching with fury as he stares down at you, but your smile never wavers. You’ve outfoxed him this time, proved that you’re more clever and more cunning than he is, proved that no matter what biology says, you don’t have to bow to it. You can transcend it, and there’s nothing he can do-

His face smooths suddenly, his expression calm and thoughtful though his eyes still flash with anger. His head tilts as he looks down at you, eyes narrowing as he considers something, and your heart jumps into your throat as he busies himself with pulling your leggings off. His persistence tells you that he either knows something you don’t or he’s enacting some kind of plan. You struggle, pulling on your hands, twisting and drawing your legs up to make it harder for him to take your clothes off. He snorts contemptuously in response to your resistance.

“Dryness is a common side-effect of suppressants for Omegas,” he says, glancing up at your face with a deceptively frank look on his face, “But there are methods for dealing with it.”

“I don’t keep lube,” you inform him, your tone harsh and biting to cover your fear, but he exposes the truth when he rips your leggings further, startling you into a frightened whimper.

“Lube is one,” he agrees, his tone even and conversational, “There are others.” His hand is warm as it slides the intact side of your leggings down your thigh and calf, over your foot and then he tosses them aside. You can feel yourself shaking as you realize that you should have had some kind of backup plan. You could have changed the locks, hell, you could have even moved, but you didn’t. There’s a part of you that understands that you wanted to somehow win this game, but there’s another part of you that understands that you’re still hoping that he’ll come back to stay.

You’re struck dumb by the realization that you’ve sabotaged your own moves in a way that you never even thought to consider, and the Alpha must see this somehow because he releases your hands to strip your shirt and bra off, both of these discarded to the floor with no protest from you. You wonder if it’s even worth fighting him at this point, and he takes advantage of your quiet to slide your panties down your hips. You bite your lip, lift them to make it easier for him to take them off you, but he makes no comment about this development. If anything, he has more self-possession now than ever as he moves over you, smooth as silk. He takes hold of one of your wrists, pulls it out towards the corner of your mattress. You can’t make sense of why, or the reason he might lean over the edge of it. He seems to be looking for something, and then he comes up with a thick black circle, and your eyes widen when you see it for what it is: a cuff.

“No!” you shout, trying to yank your wrist from his grip, but his fingers tighten around you like steel, and then you’re twisting, struggling, trying to pull free and throw him off. He makes quick work of securing your left hand, and then he’s pulling your right out, neatly avoiding your flailing legs as he walks over your body on his knees. Binding your right hand is faster, and then he rolls off you and the bed entirely, pausing to adjust the tethers, taking up most of the slack.

“Sufficient stimulation,” he says as if it was obvious that he installed some kind of under-the-mattress restraint system and you’re not fighting him as he ties you down, as if he isn’t fishing two more hidden cuffs from under the foot of your bed, “Is another method of dealing with suppressant-induced dryness.” He lectures you as if you’re supposed to be learning something, dodging the kick you aim at his face. He catches your ankle ins his hand, pulling your leg out and looping the cuff around it. He fastens it and then adjusts, again taking up most of the slack.

“Most Alphas don’t have patience for that method,” he continues, reaching across the bed for your other ankle with a casualness that sends rage blazing through your belly. You kick free of his hand, then slam your shin into his upper arm. It’s not what you were aiming for, but he grunts with pain and his eyes get that sharp, angry flash to them again. His hand snakes out, quick as a cobra’s strike, catching your ankle and dragging it to the cuff he has waiting. You pause, panting from exertion as much as fear, and then it’s done. The Alpha withdraws and looks over the tableau he’s created, nodding slightly as if to congratulate himself.

You should be giving up, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is coming, but you can’t, so you struggle, pulling on the restraints. There’s a little give as the mattress bends slightly under your force, but there’s no escaping. You stop, let yourself fall back against the mattress to rest although tension is still shivering through your limbs, and it’s at this moment that the Alpha lays his body down between your spread thighs. He takes his time spreading you open, pinning the hood of your clit back and your folds apart, and your cunt clenches as you squirm. Your movement does nothing except lift your hips closer to his mouth, and he smirks as he leans in to lick you. The wet drag of his tongue is just as careful and languid as the touch of his fingers, like he wants to familiarize himself with and memorize the taste of you when you’re not drenched with slick.

He settles into his self-appointed task, each and every lick as indulgent as the last. You’re uncomfortably aware of every second he spends between your thighs, the suppressant blocking the extreme heights of Omega arousal, the mind-numbing nature of it. You wonder if he realizes that he won’t get the same kind of reaction from you that he got before, but you don’t know how to say that out loud and you shiver as his tongue traces a slippery circle around your clit. His fingers shift on you, spreading you a little further, and you pull in a sharp breath between your teeth as you hear the wet sound of his tongue-

“You’re not purring,” you say out loud by accident, staring down in open-mouthed confusion at the Alpha between your legs. He looks up at you, tongue still working your clit before he closes his lips around it and sucks. You jerk, back arching, teeth grinding together, and then he tugs gently before letting go.

“Why would I purr for an Omega I’m punishing?” he asks with cool nonchalance, and suddenly you’re angry again.

“Punishing?” you repeat, glaring down at him, “This is punishment? For fucking what? Making it so you can’t just walk in and fuck me whenever you want? So I can never have a normal relationship with someone else? Fuck you!”

His head comes up sharply at the word “relationship”, those blue-grey eyes sharp as he demands, “You’ve been seeing someone else?”

“Did you think I was just going to wait around for you to come back if you felt like it?” you ask him mockingly, seeing Alpha possessiveness rear it’s head and twisting the hurtful thing you suddenly have access to. “I’ve been on dates with several Betas, and not one of them-”

He laughs, tips his head back and laughs from his chest, and you pull on your bindings, wanting nothing more than to hit him for taking your only weapon and making it useless. He settles one hand on your belly and presses lightly, but you don’t relax under his touch as he gives you a smug, wicked smile and says, “Even on suppressants, a Beta will never do what I do for you.”

You’re so blinded by rage that as he lifts himself from between your thighs and circles around to the side of the mattress to bend over you, you never think to ask why. The only thing you can focus on is that you want him close enough to sink your teeth into his face, bite and rip and tear and ruin his beauty. The hand on your stomach twists as he moves, but never leaves your skin, and then it slides down over your pubic bone to cup your pussy. He’s watching your face intently, smirking at your impotent fury. His head tilts ever so slightly, and then his hand lifts and comes down on your cunt in a fierce, stinging slap.

You jump with the surprise of it, yelp when it hurts, hiss when he repeats the action, try to close your legs when a third slap lands on your suddenly burning pussy. It doesn’t work, nothing works, the restraints holding fast and the Alpha’s hand rising and falling in a steady, ceaseless beat. You still struggle, twisting, squirming, writhing, anything to get away from the heat and the pain. Sounds that you don’t mean to make keep escaping between your gritted teeth, yelps, whines, little cries of dismay. Even worse, your eyes start to tear with the humiliation of it, running down the sides of your face as you buck, trying to make it harder for him to keep hitting you in the same place, but he only slows his pace so he can slap you exactly where he means to. 

At a certain point, the only thing you can do is grimly grab onto the tethers connected to your cuffs, close your fists around them and take it as quietly as you can. You wonder how many times he’s spanked your cunt, wonder if you were supposed to count, wonder if you started counting now if he would stop. You doubt it, though your shaking thighs are still straining to close, and you squeeze your eyes shut and then… it stops.

You open your eyes again, bewildered and relieved, even if your pussy is burning and heavy, pulsing with pain. The Alpha has circled back around and he resumes his place between your thighs, his fingers on you again, spreading you open for him to see. He hums, but still doesn’t purr as he examines you, testing your entrance with his fingertips. You barely hear the soft sound of pleasure he makes at whatever he finds over your ragged breaths, barely feel his fingertips sliding around your entrance over the hot throb of your cunt.

The moment doesn’t last long, the Alpha shattering it when he closes his mouth around your clit and sucks fiercely. You shriek, bucking, trying desperately to dislodge him, but he pins your hips to the bed with his hands, suckles harshly on the oversensitive nerves. It provokes instant tears because it hurts, hot pressure and a hot tongue on an already hot and swollen and over-sensitive clit. He drops your clit for a moment to lick you, and you catch half a breath before he’s sucking relentlessly on your clit again. The rest of the world ceases to exist, the only thing that matters is the burning mouth on the most sensitive part of your cunt. 

It doesn’t last forever though it seems to, but he doesn’t move from between your legs when he finally pulls away and sits up on his knees. The angle doesn’t soften the impact of his hand on your pussy when he starts to spank you there again, and it only takes three or four slaps before you’re shaking violently, desperately fighting your bindings to try and close your thighs. You lose track of everything as you start to cry in earnest, sobbing because you can’t escape his hand, can’t stop any of it from happening. You don’t want to give up, but you’re trapped and-

Something steals into your awareness, something soothing, comforting, arousing, and then the Alpha’s voice, “Good girl, spread your legs for me, Omega.” You can’t understand why he’s telling you to spread your legs, but he’s purring and you latch onto that because it’s the only thing you have to hold onto for your sanity. You do as you’re told, spread your legs, but they only go so far and through blurry vision, you realize that they’re already spread wide, as wide as you can get them in the restraints. The Alpha’s hand comes down on you again and you jerk involuntarily, feel something inside you spasm and then release, and then there’s tension building, something coiling tight inside you. 

“Cum,” is the soft command the Alpha purrs, and he slaps your pussy again and you break. Heat rushes under your skin, your cunt melting, clenching and rippling, overwhelming pleasure sending you spiraling into some altered state of being that you don’t understand. A sudden pressure and circling on your clit pushes you higher, beyond anything you’ve ever known, on or off suppressants.

The Alpha brings you down slow and soft, tongue slowing in its endless circle over your clit, purring deep in his throat to lull you as your pussy settles into intermittent twitching. There’s a buzzing in your bones, something that refuses to settle even after he pulls away and unfastens the cuffs around your ankles. He takes the time to massage the marks the cuffs left on your skin, your knees, your hips, all the places that ache. It’s a moment you could take advantage of, but you realize at the same time that you’re exhausted, overstimulated and soaked in sweat. He continues purring, offers you calm in the wake of the most overwhelming thing you’ve ever experienced as he takes the cuffs off your wrists and treats them the same way he did your legs.

“I thought I was being punished,” you say, your voice hoarse, feeling vaguely surprised at his attentiveness.

“Your punishment ended,” he informs you in a murmur, “But continuing was necessary.”

“Necessary?” you repeat, too tired to figure out why he thinks it was necessary to take you to the point of a pain-induced orgasm. He’s rearranging your limbs, tucking them in as he rolls you to your side, and from there to your stomach. He lifts your hips, braces your knees between his own to keep you from slipping.

“You’re slick enough now to take a knot,” he says softly in your ear, bending over you in much the same way he did that first time when he came into your home and you were in heat. This time, he’s still wearing his shirt, and you find yourself distantly displeased about it. You close your eyes and sigh, but can’t make yourself say anything as he undoes his pants and pulls out his cock. There’s no wasting of time, he just sinks into your soft, soaked cunt, fills and stretches you in a way that makes you sigh again, but this time with the pleasure of it. He sets a slow, easy rhythm, his hips thrusting gently so that he’s not slamming into your sore, aching pussy. 

You feel your body going pliant, relaxing into the solicitous comfort the Alpha offers in his tender touch and continuous purring. He notices, runs his hand gently along your side so that you shiver, presses a kiss to your back as he rocks his hips against yours. He shifts his angle just a little, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning when pleasure seeps through you as a result. He eases himself deep for a moment, pushing against your cervix the way he clearly remembers you liking, and you whimper for more. He keeps the pressure steady while you shudder, warmth seeping from your core through the rest of your body.

“Fuck me,” you mumble into your bed, knowing that this can’t be enough for him. It’s too gentle, too soft, good for you, but nothing to him. Alphas need more, need the violence of-

“I can knot you just like this,” he says his tone rich and indulgent as honey, and then softly against your ear, “Do you want me to hurt you so you can hate me?”

You wince as he says it, disliking that he can see through you so easily. Are you so transparent? Or can he just read you? You wonder if the suppressants are making you clearer and suddenly you hate your clarity, hate that you can’t lose yourself in this moment. You reach for your pillow, drag it to you and bury your face into it and stay there as he grips your hips and pushes a little harder against your cervix.

The pillow muffles your long, low moan as you cum, your cunt fluttering around his cock. His breath is hot on your neck as he traps your bonding gland between his teeth, bites down gently as his knot swells inside you, resisting the squeeze of your pussy. You’re trembling under him, shaking to pieces, feel your drawn out orgasm overtaking your senses one by one until nothing exists except him and you on this bed. You don’t want it to ever stop-

The feeling of being suspended in liquid light ebbs and fades, leaves you hazy and shaking, unable to move. The Alpha is kissing your shoulders, one arm wrapped around your middle, and then he’s pulling you into his chest so he can lay the both of you down. He curls protectively around you, the rumble of his purr passing from his chest and into your back, a soothing, continuous vibration. You come to the slow realization that you’ve never had this with him before, this sensory enveloping that’s supposed to be common in pair-bonded mates. You’ve only marveled at it for a moment when an aching hollowness steals in under it and you tear up.

You don’t know what it is that tells him that you’re upset, but his purr doubles in volume and potency. It’s still comforting, but you know that you won’t have it for long and that knowledge leaves you bitter. Even as his purr melts the jagged edges of your pain, it cuts deeply into the heart of you and you search desperately for something to say that will make him stop. In your post-orgasm haze, the only thing you can come up with is the raw, honest question, “Why do you do that if you’re just going to leave?”

You sound worse than you expected, hoarser and more despondent than you meant to, but he’s startled into silence. The absence of his purr is just as bad as having it, and you bite down on your lip in an attempt to distract yourself, wondering if he’ll actually answer your question or if he’ll dodge it. Even on suppressants, he could probably purr you to sleep like he has every other time, unless he’s planning to just get up and leave once his knot shrinks-

You’re distracted from the stab of that possibility when he says, “You’re an Omega. Even if I leave, I’m going to take care of you. I’m still an Alpha.” He trails his fingers down your arm and strokes your hip and you shiver.

“You haven’t marked me,” you say, but as you wait for him to respond, you realize that it wasn’t what you were trying to say, “You don’t have to do it. I don’t understand why you do.”

He remains silent and you’re disheartened when you realize that he isn’t going to elaborate on what he said. He starts to purr again, and you search frantically for something else to ask him. You settle on, “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know your name, what you do for a living, where you’re from, if you have any family-” You stop yourself before you start rambling or crying, not trusting yourself.

He stops purring again, considering this line of questioning like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to tell you or distract you with something else. You’re surprised when he finally says, “I have a brother. And a son.”

Reason drops on the moment like a thousand-ton weight, crushing every weak hope your heart was nursing against your will. A son means something, whether it’s a relationship, a marriage, or a mate. This wandering Alpha already belongs to someone else. You were only ever a distraction, a plaything, something to pass the time. You want to move away from him, but you can’t make yourself do it and focus on keeping your breathing even. You do, however, curl up a little tighter around the yawning void under your ribs, wrapping your arms tight around it to contain it. It’s not the first time you lost something that was never yours in the first place, though it’s never hurt this much.

He starts to purr again, strokes you with his fingertips, but says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! Another chapter and this story will be finished and completed.
> 
> I particularly enjoyed this chapter because of the tiny bit of insight into Vergil's reasonings for some of the things he chooses to do. We'll get to see a little more of that in the last chapter too, as well as get a quick encounter with Dante and Nero.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'd love to hear which part of this chapter was your favorite or maybe a line you really liked.


	4. For the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _An eye for an eye,_   
>  _A heart for a heart,_   
>  _A soul for a soul._
> 
> \--Fight Like A Girl, Emilie Autumn

“It’s you,” a man’s voice says from behind you in the diner, and before you can spin the stool to see his face, his hand is on your shoulder and turning you. Looking up at his face, your mouth drops open because you recognize the silver hair and grey-blue eyes. Your heart lurches in your chest and then you snap your mouth shut because it’s not the Alpha, but the resemblance is too strong for him to be anything but family.

“You’re Vergil’s Omega,” the man says in total disbelief.

“His name is Vergil?” you hear yourself say, your head spinning from being so close to an Alpha. It’s only been a month since you came off your suppressants and your hormones are still a little haywire. The man backs away suddenly, putting two short steps of distance between the two of you, apparently picking up on your overactive response to his proximity.

“Jesus,” he says, more to himself than to you as he looks you over. You do the same, taking in the similar height and build, the breadth of his chest framed by the edges of his long red coat. He breaks off your examination by asking, “He never even told you his name?”

You don’t know how to respond, but you shake your head. The man swears, then belatedly introduces himself, “I’m Dante. His brother.”

Your head is rushing, whirling, and in the moment the only thing you can think to say is, “You’re an Alpha too?”

Dante balks, staring at you, his eyebrows coming together. He’s perplexed by this statement, and you feel your face get hot with embarrassment because that wasn’t really what you meant to say. You try to come up with something to say, but all that comes out is the miserable truth, “I’m not Vergil’s anything.”

“Bullshit, I’ve smelled you on him,” Dante says, somehow insistent and gentle at the same time, firm in his conviction, “Three times.” You flush at the thought of Vergil going home smelling like you. Or did he sleep without showering, to keep your scent on him? You shake your head to dismiss the possibility because it’s just a fantasy.

“Vergil-” Saying his name feels strange, tastes strange on your tongue, so you stop and change what you were going to say. “He made it clear to me that he wasn’t interested in anything but sex.” There’s an ache in your chest now as you say it even though it’s been five months since you saw the Alpha and three since-

“You moved,” Dante says, “He’s been looking for you.”

You surprise both of you when you laugh bitterly, “I moved because of him. Three months ago.” You don’t say that your new apartment doesn’t feel like home, that it’s lonely and you would hate it if you didn’t feel so lost all of the time.

Dante rifles his fingers through his hair, his face creasing with frustration, and then he says, “Look, Vergil’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. I’ve never seen him go back to anyone or look for someone. When he comes home, he’s pissed off and picking fights.”

“Then tell him I don’t want to see him,” you tell Dante despite the fact that it’s the biggest lie you think you might have ever told in your life.

The door to the diner bursts open and you both turn to look. You’re stunned into silence a second time as you see the short, silver hair and broad shoulders. You recognize the chin and jawline and it takes so much effort not to break down because this has to be the son Vergil mentioned. He looks too much like Vergil to be anyone else. He swaggers up, bright, curious eyes on you. He sniffs once and then his expression goes from curious to shocked. “You’re the Omega.”

“Nero,” Dante greets him briefly, but Nero doesn’t answer. He’s studying you with a focused attention that’s too familiar to tolerate, leaning very slightly towards you as his young, Alpha instincts pick up on your scent. 

“My dad’s a difficult fucker at the best of times,” he says without preamble, his face suddenly soft, concerned as he looks at you. You don’t know what to make of that statement or the way he’s looking at you. Self-consciously, you turn to pay your bill, leave the money on the counter and then get up.

“I need to get going,” you say, but really you just want to get away from them. Dante catches your shoulder as you try to dart past him, stopping you.

“He’ll hunt you until he finds you,” he warns you. You glance toward Nero, but he makes no move to hinder or help. You shrug Dante’s hand off.

“Then I’ll disappear again.”

~

You’re dozing when you hear the deadbolt of your door scrape against the frame. You register the strange feeling that you should be alarmed but don’t need to be, and when you shift on the couch to look toward the opening door, you understand why. The Alpha- Vergil- is standing in the doorway, tucking your spare key in his pocket. You wish you could be surprised, but you expected him to find your apartment and your emergency key so you just settle back onto the couch. You sigh listlessly, listen to him come in and shut the door behind him. He even locks the door, and you’re mutely grateful for his conscientiousness.

You know what happens from here on, know that he’s going to come and pick you up and carry you to your bedroom. He’ll growl until slick is running down your thighs and then he’ll fuck you a few times and leave you. There’s a weariness that runs bone-deep, sapping your capacity to be upset or angry about it, so you nuzzle your cheek into the folded throw pillow you’re resting your head on. You glance up at him as he approaches you, frowning like your total lack of reaction puzzles him, something not adding up for him. You wonder if he’s offended by your resignation, your acceptance of things as they were, as they are. You wonder if he understands the numb emptiness inside you.

You sigh as you push yourself upright, not wanting to delay the inevitable. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, but you lift your arms, reaching for him with the expectation that he’ll lift you from the couch. There’s a pause where he’s looking down at you, and then he startles you by going to his knees at your feet. His arms wind around your ribs, pull you to the edge of the couch so that your calves rest along the sides of his thighs. He holds you against his body and purrs and it’s an unlooked for relief. You dare to bury your face in the curve of his neck, scenting him, let all the tension in your body melt away. One of his hands slides up your spine, kneads at the base of your skull and you groan and press yourself against him. His purr increases in power in response, the sound of it full of Alpha satisfaction.

“Dante and Nero feel that I’ve mishandled the situation,” he says quietly, and you lift your head from his neck, blinking away the fog of Alpha-induced solace.

“Oh,” you say, pulling back just enough so you can see his eyes. They’re guarded, wary, like he expects you to chastise him for exactly that. Instead, your gaze drops to his mouth, so close to your own that you can feel his breath brushing over your lips, tempting you to kiss him instead of letting him talk.

“Dante also told me that you didn’t want to see me,” he goes on, his voice still soft as you watch those pink lips move, and this his tone goes cautious, “He seems to have been mistaken.”

“I told him to say that,” you murmur back, your eyes bouncing up to look over his shoulder at the wall across the room, “It was a lie.”

You’re both quiet for a moment except for his purr, the steady rumble of it, his scent, his arms all working to cocoon you, easing away the void inside you. It feels so good and you lean back in to rest your chin on his shoulder, limp as a ragdoll against him. He adjusts himself and you, uses a knee to prop one of your trailing thighs, the hand still at the back of your neck resuming that euphoria-inducing rubbing. Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to it, relishing this moment in this new life where it feels like all you have is an endless longing for something you can never have.

His fingers drift from the nape of your neck to the sweep where it flows down into your shoulder, fingers your bonding gland as he murmurs, “Do you want me to mark you?”

The question is so abrupt that you lift your head to stare at him, searching his face for some clue as to why he’s brought this up now, why he’s offering you this, if he really wants to do that. You press your lips together before asking, “What about your son- Nero’s- mother?”

“We never had a relationship,” he admits, his eyes dropping for a moment as if in shame, “Incidentally, she was a Beta.” You’re astonished by this piece of information as much by the idea that maybe he might feel shame at all. He looks at you and the corners of his mouth twitch upward as if he’s amused by your expression, but he doesn’t let the smile fully rise.

“Would marking me mean anything to you?” you ask, your voice going tentative, distrusting. His face turns pensive, his eyes going distant, closing to you as he considers this. It’s half an answer and it makes you regret asking so you push your face back into the crook of his neck and stay there in the prolonged silence. His scent helps to settle you, helps you grapple with the ‘no’ you can feel hanging in the air around you. 

He sighs finally and then says, “It would mean something.”

His answer surprises you enough to make you jerk as you straighten to scrutinize his face for sincerity, unsure if you can believe him and wondering if something is enough. His face is carefully blank, impenetrable, and you bite your lip as you try to decide if you believe him or not. He glances down at your mouth and suddenly you have to wonder if he wants to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. It’s in this moment that you realize that whatever the truth, whatever you say, you can’t stop this, won’t stop this. You close the distance between the two of you and kiss him, a soft press of your lips to his, and he kisses you just as carefully, arms winding a little tighter to pull you closer.

The kiss is so tender that it leaves you aching and breathless, and it’s in the aching and longing that you find your answer. “If it means something, then yes.”

“I’ve never claimed an Omega,” he says, his tone somewhere between confession and warning, the tightness around his eyes betraying his guardedness, “Once you’re mine, there’s no going back.”

A bittersweet half-smile curls one side of your mouth as you say, “There was no going back after the first time you touched me.”

He moves in to kiss you swiftly, as if to stop you from saying anymore. His mouth is soft for a breath and then it’s fierce and demanding, his purr escalating into a growl. Your fingers curl into the sleeves of his coat as your body responds enthusiastically to that call, a cramping low in your stomach telling you that it’s a little soon and you’re not quite aroused enough for the rush of slick between your legs to be as painless as it’s supposed to be. You whimper at the sensation, and then his hands are under your thighs and lifting you from the couch as you cling to him.

He breaks from the kiss to navigate your apartment, the layout not as familiar to him as the house you lived in before, but he finds your bedroom easily enough and then he lays you down on your bed. He kisses you, hands working your shirt over your head, pulling away just long enough for the fabric to pass over your face. He presses parted lips to yours, his tongue curling around and sliding against your own as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. He pulls the undergarment off your body, tosses it aside, and then strips you of your sweatpants and panties. When he pulls away to look down at you, you’re panting and dazed and completely naked. He growls, the noise thundering through your bedroom, an Alpha demanding his due and your back arches and your legs spread as another gush of slick pours out of your cunt. You mewl at the intensity of it, instinct telling you to spread your legs further so he can see what he’s doing to you, as an open invitation.

When you look up at him, he’s openly appreciative, even admiring as he drops his coat to the floor behind him. He works on his shirt next, and you catch your breath as you realize what it means, pushing yourself up as he shrugs the fabric off and lets it fall as if it’s insignificant. You can’t stop staring, drinking in a sight you’ve never seen. He’s gorgeous, lean, powerful muscle on a torso that tapers from broad shoulders to a narrow waist, ivory skin decorated with milky scars. You reach for him, wanting to touch, and he steps closer so that you can, unbuckling his belt and working the fly of his pants open as he does. You flatten your palms against his pectorals, running them up to his shoulders and tracing outward under his collarbone before dragging them down to the washboard of his abdominals. You swallow and then lean in to press a kiss to his chest, needing to feel him under your lips. 

It’s not enough for you, and as your fingertips slide out to touch a scar over his hip, you kiss and lick your way down his stomach. You tug gently on the silver hairs under his navel with your mouth, following them down until you reach the waistband of his pants and you have to pull them out of the way to go further. He catches your chin in the palm of his hand, lifts your head as he bends down to kiss you briefly before he says, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you need to wait until I’ve taken my shoes off.”

You startle the both of you when you laugh, pulling away from him to cover your mouth. Vergil stiffens, watching you with narrowed eyes, his mouth pursed with offense. You reach for his hand saying, “I’m sorry, I just-” You pause, some of the dreamy, surreal feeling fading away and causing you to smile shyly, “I never thought I would have something like this with you.” You kiss his palm and then look up at him anxiously, hoping that he realizes that you didn’t mean to offend him.

His expression is softer and more thoughtful now as he lifts his hand from yours to rub his thumb over your lower lip. He draws away to bend down to remove his shoes, sets them aside and then he’s coming back to you in his undone pants and stocking feet. You slide off the bed onto your knees and reach up to pull his pants down, his briefs following suit. You realize for a moment that you’ve never really had the chance to look at his cock, the part of him that’s been inside you so many times. It’s long and thick and curves slightly upwards, flushed head peeking out of the foreskin, and you wrap a hand around him to pull it back. You lean in to kiss the tip, your eyes glancing upward to see if he’s enjoying this.

He’s staring down at you with naked hunger like you’ve never seen before, with an avarice that leaves you breathless. You can’t look away as you run your tongue over the head of his cock and then take it into your mouth. His lips pull back from his teeth as you do it, his breath hissing between them, and then one of his hands comes to rest on your head. Reluctantly, you let your eyes drop and close them so you can concentrate because it’s been a while since you last sucked a cock. You work your tongue under the head, bobbing your head and taking a couple of inches of him into your mouth. You keep it wet, working the rest of his shaft with your hand, and he groans above your head. Your heart swells with pride in your chest and you purr your satisfaction at pleasing him.

Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to purr while you blew him, but his hand tightens on your head as if he wants to push you down on his cock. You pull off him just enough to wet your lips, and then you sink far, far down on his cock, taking him down into your throat and purring on that long downstroke. You don’t know if he just didn’t expect you to be able to do that or if it really feels that good, but he bucks with a harsh exhale, sinking deeper for just a second before he grips your hair and pulls you off him. Your breathing is slightly heavier than normal, but you look up at him with a lopsided, mischievous grin, fairly unbothered by the experience. He’s giving you a sharp, assessing look, and then he asks evenly, “Who taught you that?”

There’s an undercurrent of possessiveness in his voice, a “who do I kill” lurking there, but you grin a little wider as you say, “I taught myself.”

“With what, that dildo that was under your bed?” he demands, and you wrinkle your nose with disgust, remembering the toy you threw out when you moved, the one you originally bought because the Alpha who broke your heat had vanished as if he’d never been.

“Popsicles mostly,” you tell him, wracking your brain for nearly forgotten incidents of testing how far you could put something down your throat without gagging, working to control the reflex, “Sometimes I’d practice on bananas, once or twice it was a carrot.”

He stares down at you like it’s never occurred to him that you might pursue some kind of sexual skill, like he thought you didn’t exist outside of waiting for him to come and fuck you. Slowly, he says, “I don’t know you very well, do I?”

You twist your head and he suddenly lets go of you as if he forgot that he was holding onto to you. You lick your lips as you look up at him before saying, “No, but I hope that you will. And that I get to know you.”

He pulls you back to your feet by one arm and then one of his hands is wrapped around your throat as he bends down to kiss you. The slick roll of his tongue against your lips and tongue is evocative, makes you remember how talented it is, in so many ways. His other hand drifts from your arm to your breast, gently twisting and tugging on your nipple and then squeezing it between his fingertips until you moan into his mouth. A growl ripples from deep in his throat and your cunt answers, gushing slick down your thighs, rivulets running down to your knees. The scent of your arousal is heavy and heady now, and his hands lets go of your nipple to slide down your stomach to the apex of your thighs. His fingers slide into your wet folds, rubbing briefly against your clit before dipping into you.

“When did you come off the suppressants?” he asks against your open, panting mouth, his lips brushing against yours with every word as you thrust your hips forward, into his hand. 

“Month and a half ago?” you tell him, though your breathless voice lilts upward at the end like it’s a question because you can’t quite remember the exact number of weeks. Not that it matters much since you suspect he’s asking to make sure that your hormones aren’t still off-kilter the way they were when you ran into Dante. You don’t know what that would be like, to have sex with that kind of hormonal imbalance, but you suspect it would be similar to a heat. 

“Shame,” Vergil murmurs as he eases his fingers deep into you to massage the spot he knows makes you shudder, “I could have had you begging.” You bite your lip as a shiver snakes up your spine, reach for him, your fingertips touching the skin of his waist. The skin-to-skin contact ratchets your arousal up to another level and you whine as you pull him closer. He obliges you, uses the hand around your throat to topple you backwards onto your bed. You flail for a moment as you fall, but then you land on the soft surface of the mattress and you’re staring up at him, wide-eyed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

His hold on your throat slides away, his palm running down your body. You almost protest, but then his hands are on your inner thighs, pushing them apart so he can gracefully bend to lick you. Your surprised little moan has him shifting his hands to the backs of your knees so he can spread you open more effectively. He presses his face into your pussy, his tongue flat against you, dragging, scraping up every last drop of slick that he can in a single pass. You grab at his hair, your fingers sinking into soft silk, slightly sticky with gel, your hips bucking as he tongues at your clit.

It happens fast, as if he can’t wait any longer. He lifts his face from your cunt and then lines his cock up with your cunt and sinks into you. He lets go of your knees as his hips drive forward, splitting you open as you arch and cry out, your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s braced over you on his elbows, and then he’s sliding one hand under the back of your neck. He pulls, forcing your neck to arch, your throat extended, and then he kisses you, a hot, open-mouthed kiss, licking into your mouth and tasting like you. Your pussy grips him even as it spills more slick around him, his thrusts smooth and easy, his cock gliding in and out of you. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling on him, tightening as you try to keep him in you.

You feel like you can’t catch your breath between his kisses and the way his cock seems to knock the breath from your lungs. You keen as you pull on his hair, and he snarls at the pain before dropping his face to your throat. He bites down just hard enough for it to hurt, growls with pleasure when you buck and take him deeper. The hand under your neck leaves, darting down the front of your body until his thumb is pressed over your clit, swirling in a rough, demanding circle that makes you writhe under him. You feel your cunt spasm as he cants his hips just so, finding the angle that he knows you like. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re amazed that he knows your body so precisely. His skill as a lover is more than apparent as you think of all the positions he’s had you in, the way he’s always made your body sing for him. You wonder if you’ll be jealous of his former lovers later, but in this moment you can only appreciate what it is that he does for you and to you.

It’s the last thought you have before your pussy tightens up, and then loosens, and then you’re cumming so hard that you barely hear his snarl or feel the pain of his teeth closing around your bonding gland. His knot swells up unbelievably fast, locked in your body, stretching you so far open that you feel as if you might tear, but all you feel is the unbelievable, hot wash of pleasure crashing over you in waves.

It’s after the moment has passed that you blink up at the ceiling, force your fingers to let go of his hair and feeling a few strands sticking to your sweaty palms as you do. You don’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it as you let your hands fall to the bed beside your head. Vergil lifts his head from your neck with a final lick to the sore, bleeding semi-crescents in your skin. He looks a little dazed, the way you feel, and there’s blood on his mouth as he looks down at you. He closes his eyes and kisses you, shares the taste of your blood on his tongue, purrs with a deep satisfaction. You can feel the edges of his emotions dancing along your nerves, his pleased awareness of the psychic link bonding the two of you. There’s a fast-growing fear buried under it too that he’s trying to hide from you. 

He pulls away from you, but then your hands are on either side of his face as you pull him back to you, kiss him again, arching to press your body closer to his. He allows this, his kisses taking on a borderline desperate fervor, and then abruptly he breaks from your hold, lifts himself over you. He’s looking down at you blankly, silently, his apprehension swimming through you, and then he says, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“If I wanted easy, I wouldn’t have asked you to mark me,” you say with more conviction than you realized you had, but it’s true, maybe the truest thing through all of this. You know what you want: you want this Alpha in spite of all the challenges that he presents, and you’re willing to do whatever it takes to win him. 

He surprises you when he puts his cheek alongside yours, nuzzles you and purrs as if he’s read your mind, “I’m already yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this little story! I hope that you've enjoyed reading it and that the ending was satisfying. I'm a sucker for a happy ending personally, all that angst needed some resolution.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, I would still love to hear about your favorite part or your favorite line, or your favorite thing about this story!


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